Adoption Hurts

There are some things that frustrate me more than I know how to fully explain.

Adoption hurts. I know that I don't speak for all adoptees. But I certainly know enough adoptees to know that I'm not alone in saying this. Adoption hurts.

I don't know what to do about that fact. For me, as in so many other areas of my life, I begin with education. People need to know that adoption hurts. Not because I expect them to fix me. Not because I expect them to somehow, magically, to make the hurt stop. Not even because I want sympathy (or even better, empathy). I start with education because if people don't know this basic fact, then nothing will change. People will keep acting as though adoption was a win-win-win situation and will praise it as a wonderful thing. Education, at least, gives us a chance to see changes happen for future generations. So I start with education. Ignorance and naivete are the enemy. (Well, the NCFA is the enemy, but ignorance is a close second.)

What is frustrating is the response. "Well, everyone has problems." "The past is the past." And so on.

My first reaction is that it's a compassion problem. How can people hear about the pain of adoptees and react with such coldness? Do they not feel compassion? And I get upset and defensive and may even lash out. Not exactly healthy responses. But those are my first reactions.

The more I think about it, though, the more I believe that it's not really a lack of compassion. Rather, the person has so little awareness about the issues adoptees face that there is nothing there to trigger their compassion. (I've seen this even from other adoptees, who see their lives as good, and don't understand why other adoptees have any issues about it.)

The pain of adoption is invisible. And any education has to undo decades of positive PR for adoption. So even when adoptee has some recognized issue (depression, for instance), many people refuse to acknowledge adoption's role in it. Rather, adoptees who want to raise awareness of the pain that adoption can caused are told to "get over it" or that "they had a bad experience."

At some point, ignorance becomes willful. I don't know how to assail willful ignorance. It doesn't mean I stop trying. But it makes it harder, more frustrating. It makes it easier to imagine giving up.

It is no surprise to me that finding other adoptees (online and in real life) who report similar feelings about adoption has been one of the most meaningful discovery of my life. Being given at least some empathy, having at least some validation of the judgment, those are invaluable.

Because despite the nay-sayers, adoption hurts.

Anger Management

I find myself getting angrier about adoption-related issues.

I never considered myself anti-adoption. I always grudgingly accepted adoption as a necessity. I thought it was a complex proposition, and I did not like that society failed, repeatedly, to acknowledge the complexity. But I accepted that it was sometimes necessary.

Now, I'm not so sure. I mean, I'm not entirely certain I even accept that it's necessary anymore. Maybe it is. I don't want to become too extreme without more thought. But it's becoming harder and harder for me to accept that necessity.

Maybe it's the constant feeling of beating my head into brick walls. After all, if I cannot get people to acknowledge the issues inherent in adoption, perhaps it would just be better if there weren't any adoptions. I'm not sure that's really a solution. But I think I'm being pulled that way.

Reading through Lifton's Journey of the Adopted Self, I ran across this passage:

Adoptees may never completely heal, but after search and reunion at least they have a potential for growth. There is the chance to move from the traumatized self to the revitalized and transformed self.

That really struck me. It helps to know that not completely healing may be normal. That's what it feels like for me. I am not healed. I can't imagine being healed.

But beyond that, there was something worrisome... I don't know how to move from the traumatized self. I feel stuck. I've gotten in touch with the traumatized portion of myself, but I want to move past that. So far, I haven't found the path further on.

But maybe that just takes more time. Right now... everything takes time. Maybe that's just one more thing.

Another Week

It's been over a week. He's had the letter for at least a week. No letter. No e-mail. No phone call. A week.

What could he be thinking? It's not just the feeling of rejection. But if a person who provided half of my genetic code could be this insensitive, what does that say about me? Is he scared? Does he not know what to say? Is he just procrastinating? Does he not believe me? Does he want nothing to do with me? Why is he just sitting on this? Shouldn't he be anxious to get in touch with me?

I know it isn't personal. But it is, you know? How can it not be? The man who sired me isn't responding at all to my overtures. I put myself out there and find only silence.

This sucks.

Quick Update on the Minnesota Bill Veto

I just discovered that The Daily Bastardette has the text of Pawlenty's veto message: The Daily Bastardette: MINNESOTA DEFORM MEASURE GOES DOWN. It's worth checking out (unless you don't like to be frustrated).

Back to Square One in Minnesota

There was a bill to open records in Minnesota. But Friday, Governor Tim Pawlenty put an end to it. From the Minneapolis Star-Tribune...

Pawlenty vetoes bills on sick-leave use, surrogacy contracts:

Pawlenty also vetoed a bill that would remove the presumption of confidentiality for adoptions occurring before 1977. 'Breaching the promise of confidentiality previously given to these birth parents is not appropriate,' Pawlenty wrote in his veto message.

The bill was not a clean bill: It contained a disclosure veto. So I'm glad it's dead.

But the fact that Pawlenty buys into the "promise of confidentiality" nonsense is disheartening. Not surprising. But disheartening. With that sort of veto message, unless we can change his mind, Minnesota is not likely to see open records for the next two years. (Or longer, if he runs again and is reelected in 2010.)

I'm glad we didn't get saddled with a bad bill. But I find myself wishing we didn't have such an ignorant attitude in the governor's mansion.

Better Late than Never

Gershom at Without A Tribe told me about a blogging campaign organized by Bloggers Unite to raise awareness about human rights issues. The campaign is today, and so I'm a bit tardy getting going on this, but I wanted to put up something.

Obviously, my focus here is on the rights of adoptees. Specifically, open records. So this gives me occasion to once again draw your attention to the Adoptee Rights Demonstration (the badge off to the right).

Since I teach about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, I also thought I'd share the text of the 22nd Article of the Declaration:

Everyone, as a member of society, has the right to social security and is entitled to realization, through national effort and international co-operation and in accordance with the organization and resources of each State, of the economic, social and cultural rights indispensable for his dignity and the free development of his personality.

Did you catch that? The "free development of his [or her] personality." Knowledge of where we come from is essential for developing a sense of self, a sense of identity. It is a right acknowledged in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. But the United States refuses to give us our rights.

So we need to keep speaking out. One of these days... Soon, I hope. One of these days...

Another Waiting Game

I know that my first father (or someone at his residence) has signed for the letter I sent last Friday. Now I just have to wait to see if this gets a response. If the included form and self-addressed stamped envelope doesn't facilitate him responding, then I think my only options are a phone call or a visit. I don't look forward to either one with a man who doesn't have the decency to write me back. But we'll see. I'm not there yet. Not just yet...